| My mama done tol' me,
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| When I was in knee pants,
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| My mama done tol' me, Son!
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| A woman’ll sweet talk
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| And give ya the big eye;
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| But when the sweet talkin’s done,
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| A woman’s a two face
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| A worrisome thing
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| Who’ll leave ya t’sing
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| The blues in the night
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| Now the rain’s a-fallin',
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| Hear the train a-callin'
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| Whoo-ee (my mama done tol' me)
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| Hear that lonesome whistle
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| Blowin' 'cross the trestle,
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| Whoo-ee (my mama done tol' me)
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| A whoo-ee-duh-whoo-ee, ol' clickety clack’s
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| A-echoin' back the blues in the night
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| The evenin' breeze’ll start the trees to cryin'
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| And the moon’ll hide its light
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| When you get the blues in the night
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| Take my word, the mockin' bird’ll
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| Sing the saddest kind o' song
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| He knows things are wrong and he’s right
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| From Natchez to Mobile,
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| From Memphis to St. Jo,
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| Wherever the four winds blow,
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| I been in some big towns,
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| An' heard me some big talk,
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| But there is one thing I know
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| A woman’s a two face,
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| A worrisome thing
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| Who’ll leave ya t’sing the blues in the night.
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| My mama was right,
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| There’s blues in the night. |